


Zwischenzug

by nh8343



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, Moral Ambiguity, Unresolved Emotional Tension, indulgence in chess metaphors, secret agents, unspecified government agency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 18:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nh8343/pseuds/nh8343
Summary: In this line of work, trust is hard to earn and even more difficult to prove. That’s precisely what makes it so valuable.And why it hurts so deeply when that trust is broken.





	Zwischenzug

**Author's Note:**

> “I don’t think you’ve ever stressed me out like this EVER” - my editor
> 
> Hey, everyone, I’m back with another jaeyong -- trying a few new things out here, so I hope you enjoy!

If Jaehyun had been a hair slower, the bullet would have hit him square in the chest.

He drops to the floor with a practiced finesse that years of training had drilled into him, taking momentary refuge behind a desk that is quite frankly a horrible shade of pine. He’ll be the first to admit that interior decorating isn’t his forte, but really? You would think a billionaire with this much dirty money would hold himself to higher standards.

_ “Jaehyun, you okay?” _ a worried voice asks through his earpiece. _ “I heard shots.” _

“I’m fine, Yukhei. Give me a second.”

One brief inhale and the gun is back in his hands where it belongs. He propels himself sideways out of cover, left shoulder bearing the brunt of the impact just as he fires one silent bullet toward the direction of footsteps. The woman who fired the first shot barely has time to gasp. She crumples in on herself and slumps to the floor, no longer a threat.

Jaehyun’s face twists into an expression of distaste as he rolls his shoulder. Killing on the job is never a fun business, but it’s a necessary one. At least it’s easier to rationalize when he’s not the one who ran in guns blazing.

Pulse back to resting, weapon stowed. He presses a finger to his earpiece. “Threat in the office is neutralized. Why was there someone still here? I thought Jungwoo had security handled.”

_ “I did have it handled. I’ve been chatting up the two men in charge for the past hour while Taeyong worked the cameras. She must have gone back up on her own.” _

Jaehyun just manages to hold in his groan. This is exactly the kind of thing he didn’t want to deal with tonight. It was supposed to be easy: slip into the party, slip upstairs, get the data, slip out. But now that Jungwoo mentions it…

“Is Taeyong still downstairs at the party with you?”

“_ Haven’t seen him, but like I said: I’ve been busy.” _

“Taeyong, if you’re still on this frequency, hurry up. The laptop’s not here, which means it’s probably in the bedroom. I need you there for the download. Oh, and Yukhei?”

_ “I’m listening.” _

“I need cleanup at my location as soon as Jungwoo can sub in as lookout.”

_ “On it!” _ The words make Jaehyun smile. Whatever their newest addition to the team lacks in finesse, he makes up in enthusiasm.

Jaehyun keeps his eyes moving to every corner as he makes his way back past the stairwell and to the other side of the house. Theoretically, any remaining security on this floor should have heard the earlier shot and come running. He should be safe.

The only reason Jaehyun is still alive today is because he never assumes that he’s safe.

No more bullets are needed for today, however. After picking the lock to the master bedroom, it’s easy to spot the laptop they’d been targeting left out in plain sight. Jackpot. He seals the doors and relocks them, just to ensure there are no interruptions while he works. That ‘he’ should be a plural by now, he notes with a twitch of annoyance, but he still inserts the USB drive from around his neck into the laptop port. If he’s lucky, he won’t need Taeyong’s help at all.

A black box pops up on screen, lines of code flashing white before they disappear from view. While he waits, Jaehyun switches his earpiece over to a much more private line, asking directly, “Where are you? Seriously, I have the laptop, but I need you here.”

For a long moment, he thinks he’ll be ignored. Then, abruptly, “_ Sorry, on my way. I heard you earlier, but I couldn't talk. Got held up rewiring the last set of cameras.” _

“Double-time it. Yukhei needs time for cleanup, which means Jungwoo won’t be our eyes downstairs.” And Jaehyun has never been one to panic under pressure, but if Jungwoo starts to feel like he’s pulled in too many different directions, like they’re running out of time...that never ends well.

_ “Going as fast as I can. See you soon.” _

Part of Jaehyun still wants to be annoyed with him, but it’s hard when everything Taeyong says is with such sincerity. It’s not like he makes a habit of being unreliable, either; he’s the agent who Jaehyun trusts the most. He supposes that even the best of them have their off-days.

Back on the laptop, an error is glaring back at him, and Jaehyun frowns. The chances of the fully automated decryption working on a case this big were slim, but he’d still hoped. Now he just has to wait for━

A shadow moves in the corner of his eye. Jaehyun is out of his chair with his gun at the ready in seconds, only to see a lithe body drop gracefully to the floor.

“Thanks for that minor heart attack,” he mutters, willing his breathing back to normal.

Taeyong grins, half an apology resting in his eyes. “Couldn’t help it. The vents were way too easy of an escape route. You need some of my expertise?”

Before Jaehyun can answer, Taeyong is sliding into the chair and squinting at the screen. As his fingers fly across the keyboard to manually oversee the hack, Jaehyun doesn’t bother to mask his admiration. He’s always fascinated by the way Taeyong thinks around any kind of tech, the way he almost seems to meld into the machine. It’s a kind of performance art he can get behind.

The flashing windows suddenly switch to a desktop display. “Got it,” Taeyong confirms, passing back Jaehyun’s USB drive before inserting one of his own. “Doyoung wanted anything tied to bank transactions from the past three years, right?”

“And a copy of any personal files. Photos, notes, that sort of thing.”

Taeyong’s hands hesitate, hovering above the keyboard. “I don’t remember him mentioning…?”

“He told me before we left today. Command changed parameters at the last minute.”

Even though Taeyong immediately resumes copying over the directories, he visibly pouts. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me anything.”

“Pretty sure you’re not today’s mission leader, last time I checked,” Jaehyun teases him, nudging an elbow into the other man’s shoulder.

“You promised you’d stop rubbing that in, you━”

_ “Jaehyun, are you on?” _

Jaehyun steps back and removes the playfulness from his voice, confirming, “I read you, Jungwoo.” There’s a telltale tremor to Jungwoo’s words that makes him brace for the worst.

_ “Yukhei’s done with cleanup, but I think security might be catching on to their missing person. I can try to stall them, except if I leave my post…” _

“We’ve almost got the files,” Jaehyun reassures him. “There’s a window in the office that faces the back of the house. Tell Yukhei to slip out that way, but not to leave fingerprints. You can meet him out back. Taeyong and I will take the vents and be there in a minute.”

_ “Alright, thanks. I’ll let him know.” _

One more glance at the screen. That ‘almost’ had been pulled out of his ass, but judging by the status bar, it hadn’t been entirely inaccurate.

Taeyong taps his fingers against the desk for a few more seconds before letting out a breath and passing over the pilfered data. “You sounded pretty confident about getting out through those vents for someone who hasn’t been in them,” he notes with poorly hidden amusement.

“I may have...assumed. You’d already talked them up and all that.”

“How very presumptuous of you.” His expression is far too fond for the words to sting.

“And would I be wrong to presume?”

He gets a light shove for that one. “Not this time. Now, let me give you a boost. I am _ not _ pulling you up.”

  
  


◂♟

  
  


“I don’t like this, Doyoung.”

Jaehyun crosses his arms as he voices his displeasure. The wall is colder against his back than he expected, but this position makes him feel more in control. That’s not to say he feels particularly threatened by their team leader ━ he and Doyoung tend to get on rather well ━ but he wants to always be seen on equal footing. And heard.

“You think I do?” Doyoung demands, voice tight. “There’s nothing I can do about it. The order came from over my head.”

“So they sent a spy.”

“They sent a _ babysitter _,” Doyoung corrects. The way he spits the word makes it sound worse than the previous suggestion. “Waiting to find flaws in every decision I make, find every reason to replace me with one of their well-groomed figureheads. Not any different from today. Just a whole less subtle.”

Jaehyun doesn’t have to ask why. Why stay in a position that your superiors are actively trying to pull out from under your feet? He understands the combination of stubbornness and determination at the core of that choice, along with the simple fact that Kim Doyoung is just that damn good at his job.

Still, this new development has him worried. Why does Command feel the need to scrutinize them now? What are they hoping to find? “I really think we should━”

“Quiet, he’s here.”

Two tentative knocks sound on the door. The hesitation in between them makes Jaehyun frown (isn’t this new recruit supposed to be a professional?), but after Doyoung’s firm “come in” and the door swinging open, that frown is erased.

The man who steps inside Doyoung’s office isn’t what Jaehyun expected at all. He’s...soft. There’s a grace to the way he moves that speaks of fine-tuned mastery of his body, but there’s an unsure edge underneath. An awkwardness, he might say. The combination is unexpectedly endearing. His face is more of that same enigma: soft, sharp, hesitant, confident. And behind all of that, maybe a hint of that certain brand of loneliness, one that Jaehyun knows well.

(_ Get close to him _ , a voice in his head insists. _ Don’t let that softness slip away _.)

The man stops a few feet from Doyoung’s desk, back ramrod straight and shoulders squared. “Lee Taeyong?” Doyoung asks.

“That’s me, Sir.”

“Please,” Doyoung says with distaste. “Just Doyoung. I assume Command prepped you before shipping you off?”

“Yes, S━ Yes. They did.”

“Good.” He narrows his eyes. “One thing they may have forgotten to stress is that when it comes to this team? I’m in charge. My word is law. I don’t like when decisions are made over my head.”

Taeyong visibly winces, shoulders deflating a notch or two, but he says nothing.

“As long as we understand each other, we’ll get along fine. Got that?”

“Yes, Doyoung.”

“Perfect.”

Jaehyun sees that their team leader is on the verge of a dismissal. Before the opportunity can pass by, he steps off the wall and clears his throat, making Taeyong’s eyes dart in his direction.

“Alright, Doyoung, I’ll take it from here. I’ll make sure he gets set up okay in his room and gets a tour of the Compound. Can’t have a new recruit getting lost on his first day, right?” He places one hand on Taeyong’s shoulder and finds that it relaxes to the touch.

“Right,” Doyoung repeats, voice flat. Then, pointedly, “We’ll talk later.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jaehyun tells him, already guiding Taeyong out the door.

Doyoung scowls. Taeyong fails to hide his smile. The first victory of many.

  
  


♟▸

  
  


Doyoung’s eyes are sharp when they walk through the door, shutting it tight behind them. Jaehyun can recall a time when that undisguised scrutiny would have made him shrink in on himself, would have made Taeyong flinch back, but that time has long since passed. He still has to resist the urge to squirm in the weighted silence before their team leader opens his mouth to speak.

“Nothing I say today leaves this room,” Doyoung tells them. “BlackOps only. Understood?”

Two identical nods.

“Good. Then, the first order of business…” He turns on Taeyong with disappointment worn openly on his face. “I read the mission notes. Held up by a few basic cameras? Really? Do I need to put you through a technical training refresher, or do I have your word that it won’t happen again?”

There’s anger in Taeyong’s expression when he opens his mouth, but it’s not directed at Doyoung. “That’s not━”

“Don’t blame Jaehyun for detailing the mission. That’s what I needed him to do. And I need you to be where you’re supposed to, _ when _ you’re supposed to. A few minutes, even a few seconds, can make all the difference. You know that.” His gaze turns a few shades softer. “I don’t want either of you hurt. Just make sure to get your head back in the right place.”

It’s been a while since they’ve been properly chewed out. Jaehyun can still vividly picture the first time he was on the receiving end of such criticism. At the time, it had made him feel like a disappointment, like maybe he wasn’t as great as he thought he was. But a reality check had been what his ego needed, and these days he lets the sting of Doyoung’s words roll off his back. He’s pleasantly surprised to see Taeyong do the same this time, swallowing his retort and agreeing with a small nod. There’s caring at the center of that criticism. Better to look at it that way than as anything else.

“Now, enough of that,” Doyoung continues. Suddenly, without all that forced harshness, he looks exhausted. “There’s been a...situation. Command just decided to tell me that they think our team has been compromised. Information has gotten out from case files we had access to, and a few hostile entities have been able to predict our movements.” A ragged sigh escapes his lips. “We have a leak.”

Jaehyun’s heart rate jumps. He feels Taeyong stiffen next to him, masking his own surprise. This isn’t good. For the entire time Jaehyun has been here, he’s never heard Command bring something like this up ━ or seen Doyoung this worried.

“What do we know?” Taeyong asks seriously.

“At the moment? Almost nothing. I’m going to do some more research of my own and compare notes with any of them who can give me more information.”

“You don’t think…” Jaehyun hesitates, choosing his next words very carefully. “I know Yukhei is the newest recruit, which puts him first on your list. I can vouch for his character. He’d never do anything that he didn’t think was right.”

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “And if what he believed was right didn’t necessarily align with the team? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You make it sound like I’m accusing him. No. But now that you mention it, it’s worth considering multiple angles.” He shrugs. “It would make me feel better if it was somehow on accident, no matter how unlikely it is.”

“Or maybe an outside hack,” Taeyong suggests. “There’s a chance it’s not an internal leak at all.”

They both look to Doyoung for an opinion out of habit, but their team leader isn’t making eye contact. He stares resolutely down at his desk as he listens, a frown carved so deeply into his features that Jaehyun fears it might become a permanent fixture.

“Just keep an eye out for now,” he finally says. “Who knows? Maybe this will all be a big misunderstanding.”

Jaehyun has never heard words sound more hollow.

  
  


◂♟

  
  


When Taeyong sees that it’s Jaehyun at the door, his expression immediately warms. Jaehyun makes a spot for himself on Taeyong’s bed with practiced ease, stacking three pillows against the headboard so he can properly relax.

Taeyong’s room is much more lived-in than some of the others’ spaces despite being the newest recruit. Most of the others take the option to stay in their own residences when they’re not actively working a case, despite always having a place here at the Compound. Taeyong chooses to rarely leave. Jaehyun’s never pressed him on why. It’s not too different from his own preference, really, and it’s nice in many ways not to be alone here. The Compound can loom rather large in silence.

Some days Taeyong will stay at his desk while they talk, eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop while Jaehyun can’t look at anything but him. Today Taeyong stretches out beside him, which stirs a pleasant warmth in Jaehyun’s stomach that he’s come to know well.

“What is it?” Taeyong asks him.

“How do you know there’s an ‘it’? What if I just wanted to see you?”

It earns him an eye-roll. Not even the faintest flush to acknowledge the implication in those words. “I can read you like an open book, Jaehyun. Get to the point.”

“Is that so?” He draws it out for just a moment longer. Then he sees the growing pout on Taeyong’s face and can’t resist conceding, “Fine. Doyoung wanted to tell you himself, but I insisted.” One more pause. “You’re being promoted to BlackOps as our third special agent.”

And Jaehyun thanks the stars for aligning just right today, because he gets to watch up close the artwork that is Taeyong’s surprise: incomprehension bleeding into shock, only to bloom into unfettered joy, his eyes wide with excitement. Like the first deluge of summer rain. Jaehyun’s fingers itch to touch before he curls them into fists at his sides.

“You’re serious?” Taeyong breathes. “I wasn’t even sure if that was real. I heard the rumors about the two of you, I mean, but...oh.” Less certainly, “Not Yuta?”

“He’s retiring in a few weeks. Hasn’t told the team yet, though, so keep that to yourself. Even if he wasn’t, this isn’t about seniority. It’s about being the best.” He indulges himself in one light press to the tip of Taeyong’s nose, making it scrunch up in surprise. “And that’s you.”

The fond look Taeyong gives him in return does dangerous things to Jaehyun’s heart. It’s entirely worth it.

  
  


♟▸

  
  


Doyoung is just as efficient in the field as he is standing at the head of their strategic planning meetings. He secures one of Jaemin’s homemade devices to the handle of the door and steps back as the steel begins to deform, swinging it open the moment the device’s light turns green.

_ “On me,” _he instructs through their headsets. His face is hidden, wrapped entirely in black like the rest of his body, but Jaehyun can sense the authority underneath it.

He clicks off the safety on his pistol and follows both Doyoung and Taeyong into the inner facility. When was the last time they had a BlackOps mission with all three of them on the ground? Jaehyun can count the number on one hand since the day Taeyong was inducted. But this is big: true to his word, Doyoung had done some more digging. All of the data involved in the leak had been routed through servers in this location. Getting access to the servers means getting access to the exact information that’s been compromised.

Jaehyun had asked their team leader if this mission was sanctioned by Command but gotten only a pointed look in response.

_ “Just like we agreed,” _ Doyoung says in hardly a murmur. _ “Jaehyun, you take point at security. I’m authorizing you to use lethal force on anyone you find. Taeyong, still with me. We’ll split up once we reach the main floor.” _

_ “Copy that.” _

The other two melt into the shadows as they start to make their way down, almost disconcertingly so. Jaehyun allows himself one more breath and takes off down the hallway. He needs this to go well. A lot is riding on those files.

Three shots drop the three men standing guard. The USB drive around Jaehyun’s neck is enough this time to get him past the firewall and into the camera feeds, the room’s displays lighting up with a hundred angles of the facility. So far, so good.

“I’m inside security,” he reports in. “Visual confirmed on both of you. No hostiles anywhere but the two server rooms.”

_ “They knew we were coming.” _ Doyoung’s hushed voice is grim. _ “Which means our mole has access to my fucking personal terminal. Prepare for the worst.” _The slip of professionalism betrays the depths of Doyoung’s anger. Jaehyun knows the best course of action is to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

_ “Breaking off now,” _ Taeyong’s voice filters through. _ “Getting close to hostiles. I’m going silent.” _

“Copy that. I’ll keep both of you updated. Click your earpiece off and on again if I need confirmation. One click for Doyoung, two for Taeyong.” Three quiet bursts of interference sound over the connection. “We’re all set.”

Enough prep work. Now they’re really in the thick of things. Jaehyun watches as the two agents slink closer to the server rooms, occasionally adjusting their courses from his bird’s-eye view. He’d been right about hostiles: the facility is nearly empty, save for the guards in the rooms who he’s sure are armed to the teeth. It’s almost too easy getting within their vicinity. What comes next will be the real challenge.

“Both rooms have different access points,” he tells them with one more look at the screens. “Doyoung, there’s a side door into the south room that might give you the element of surprise. And if you can draw some of them out through that entrance, I’ll try to lock the doors. Take them out in groups.” One click. “Taeyong, you’ve got vents again. The access point is three rooms down. To the east. You’re almost there.” Two clicks.

Jaehyun hardly blinks as he follows their progress. So close, so close…

_ “Jaehyun, the doors just sealed. I made it to the room, but everything’s locked. Extra barriers, too.” _

Jaehyun’s eyes flicker back up to Doyoung on the camera feed, jaw clenched so tight it’s painful. “There’s something else in the system. Looks like some kind of backup protocol got engaged when I hacked in.”

_ “Fix it. I can’t melt through two layers of metal without drawing the attention of everyone on the other side.” _

“Working on it. Taeyong, are you also━ Taeyong?”

The other man isn’t where Jaehyun expects him to be at all. He almost thinks he’s seeing things when he looks at the north server room feed and sees an agile shadow leap from an opening near the upper section of the wall. But no, that’s definitely Taeyong who lands on top of the mainframe in the center of the room.

Ice goes down Jaehyun’s spine as Taeyong slowly repels down the backside of the mainframe, looking for an access point. Quickly, he switches to their private channel. “What the _ hell _?” he demands. He hopes the anger in his voice is still audible with how quiet he makes it, terrified to give the other man away. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

The all-black figure puts a finger over his lips in the direction of the nearest camera, a universal “shush”, and inserts a drive into the mainframe. Any minute now, those guards could look up and see they have an intruder. If they open fire, Taeyong is done for. Not even he can take on seven ━eight?━ trained guards on his own. Heart in his throat, Jaehyun puts his fingers back on the keyboard and tries to save this whole operation.

_ “I’m back in the vents. I got what I could from the server.” _

“What were you thinking? They could have seen you!” It’s not uncommon for Taeyong to overstep protocol or Jaehyun’s patience, but this is _ pushing _it.

_ “But they didn’t. You mentioned vents, and I took an alternate route. Now what was going on with━” _ He cuts off suddenly. _ “Jaehyun, the other channel.” _

Jaehyun switches over immediately, just in time to hear Doyoung’s voice saying, “_ Don’t shoot. I’ve dropped my weapon.” _If there’s fear in those words, it’s masked well.

_ “Looks like the doors unsealed.” _

“Yeah, and now he’s surrounded.” Jaehyun takes a steadying breath. “I have access to the building’s generators. I can blow one on the other end and distract them.”

_ “I won’t speak to anyone other than whoever’s in charge here.” _

_ “NO. No explosives. I’m looking at one of the generator’s fuse boxes, and something isn’t right.” _

“Fuse boxes, what…? You’re supposed to be heading back to the exit with the data!” What’s the point of even having mission protocol if a certain agent insists on not following it?

_ “Chew me out later. This is something I had to do. Doyoung’s life is in danger if you set off one of these generators.” _

_ “Shoot, and I pull this pin. We all go up in smoke.” _

“Taeyong, I swear to God━”

_ “Trust me!” _

Nearly every inch of Jaehyun’s body screams at him to hit that button. But that final inch, his damn bleeding heart that can’t tell this man no, stays his hand. “You’d better be right. Whatever your plan is, do it fast.”

_ “I’m warning you one last time.” _ At last, a tremble. _ “Stay back.” _

Jaehyun zeroes in on the image of Doyoung surrounded, unable to breathe, and sees Taeyong appear in the next screen just outside the door. This was his big plan? A suicidal last stand? He’s about two seconds from running down there himself when he sees Doyoung suddenly throw himself to the ground.

At the same instant, the smoke grenade Taeyong had lobbed through the open doorway blooms into a curtain of confusion. The camera goes gray. Not a single breath draws from Jaehyun’s lungs until he sees two figures sprinting for the central stairs.

_ “Forget the second server!” _ Doyoung yells. _ “We’re getting out of here. Now.” _

_ “Jaehyun, blow one of the generators! We’re off the main floor.” _

“Done,” he confirms. “But just one isn’t going to━”

The ground shakes under Jaehyun’s feet, coinciding with the series of loud bangs coming from below. Across the screens, Jaehyun watches as a chain of generators go up in flames, incinerating anything within the radius of the blast. The rooms surrounding the servers ━ including the ones his fellow agents were in ━ are now ruins of metal and smoke.

“I don’t understand,” he says, shaken. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

_ “I told you something was off, didn’t I?” _

_ “Get out of there. We’re almost back to the exit.” _

Jaehyun at least has enough sense left in his body to retrieve his decryption drive and book it back down the hallway. The other two meet up with him just as he rounds the corner, and they fly out of the doors without breaking stride.

As they slide back down the cables they’d left suspended down to the ground, gloves protecting them from the worst of the burn, Doyoung finally speaks again. _ “I heard you two on the comm. Breaking protocol again? After the talk we just had?” _

_ “You would have died.” _ Taeyong says it with such certainty that Jaehyun thinks Doyoung will reprimand him on the spot. _ “Jaehyun saw. He can vouch for me. I did what I thought was right.” _

Doyoung is silent after that. Jaehyun tries to stop his hands from shaking.

  
  


◂♟

  
  


Jaehyun has seen Taeyong annoyed before, but never like this. Never with a blaze of anger so plain in his eyes that it makes Jaehyun want to take a step back and apologize, despite being the one to bring up the argument in the first place.

“If you have such a _ problem _,” Taeyong practically seethes, “with the way I work, then maybe you should take it up with Doyoung. God knows you spend half your time kissing his ass when you’re not lecturing me about falling short of your expectations.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one who stuck himself to me like a leech because I was the slightest bit nice to him. Are you that desperate for my attention?”

The rational part of his brain screams at him to stop. He needs to shut up before he says something he can’t take back. But the self-destructive side watches in fascinated horror as he works to tear down the foundation he’s worked for so long to build. It feels like the words roll off someone else’s tongue.

Taeyong’s eyes blaze brighter. “Don’t,” he says simply, and that single word is enough to keep Jaehyun from crossing the line they’ve never put a name to.

“If you’re going to act like a child,” he says instead, “do it on your own time. And don’t come running to me when you get someone killed.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

It’s the most childish end to an argument in the books. Jaehyun feels embarrassed for both of them somewhere underneath anger of his own as he storms out of the room. They could use a few hours to calm down.

  
  


♟

  
  


Except hours turn to days turn to nearly two weeks, and the ice between them hasn’t thawed.

Jungwoo corners Jaehyun in the hallway one evening and tells him to get over himself. “You’re wasting time being mad at each other,” he says in that disarming voice of his. “In our line of work, we don’t have time to waste. You never know when it’s running out.”

He’s right, of course. The truth still does nothing to soothe Jaehyun’s wounded pride, his genuine irritation with Taeyong’s eccentricities on missions that he’d let push him to the edge. Only when Jeno pulls him away from the briefing room the following day does something finally get through to him.

“He’s what?”

“Crying in his room, if I heard right,” Jeno repeats, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to tell about something like that…?”

“You did the right thing.” Jaehyun huffs out a sigh. “And I’m an idiot.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go make sure Jaemin doesn’t blow up the armory while he’s tinkering with his new project.”

_ Weak _, Jaehyun can’t help but think as he navigates back to the living quarters. If Taeyong’s tears are in any way, shape, or form about him, he’ll apologize in a heartbeat, and how stupid is that? Dangerous, is what it is.

“Taeyong?” He raps twice on the door for good measure.

“Go away,” a muffled voice sounds from the other side.

“I know you’re pissed at me, but please let me in?” At the wall of silence he gets in return, he adds, “I’ll even keep my foot out of my mouth this time. That’s a promise.”

He opens his mouth to say something more, but the door suddenly opens, revealing a sight that makes Jaehyun’s heart sink to his feet. Taeyong’s face is red and splotchy, skin irritated around watery eyes. His bottom lip quivers despite his obvious efforts to rein it in.

“Don’t just stand there,” Taeyong spits out, and Jaehyun is unceremoniously yanked inside, door closing behind him.

When he smooths down his shirt and looks up, Taeyong is back on his bed. His knees tuck underneath his chin as he curls up, looking far too small and miserable for any of Jaehyun’s irritation to linger. Where should he sit? What should he say?

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong apologizes suddenly. His voice is almost too soft to catch. “I didn’t want to push you away. You had a point about being too unpredictable, even if sometimes is for the best. I don’t always...handle criticism well.”

For now, Jaehyun settles on standing where he is. He can see the fragile bridge being reconstructed between them, and he doesn’t want to send it toppling down. “I’m sorry, too,” he apologizes in turn. “I should have explained myself better instead of lashing out at you. And I didn’t…” he hesitates. “I didn’t mean what I said about being clingy. I’m glad you chose me to be your friend.”

It can’t be the entirely wrong thing to say, because Taeyong lets out a long breath, eyes softening. Then a small hiccup shakes his shoulders. Jaehyun’s eyes widen when he sees a fresh round of tears make themselves known.

“Sometimes I just feel so _ lonely _,” Taeyong chokes out, and Jaehyun crosses that bridge without hesitation. He pulls Taeyong into his arms, who hides those tears in the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt while he cries.

Maybe he needs this, Jaehyun thinks. Maybe he’s needed it for a while: a chance to let it all out, without judgement but not without a hand to hold. “You’re not alone,” Jaehyun murmurs into Taeyong’s hair. He runs his hands down the other's back to soothe the shudder he gets in return, surprising himself with the sudden realization of the depth of this emotion.

He holds Taeyong right against his heart like the world’s most valuable treasure.

  
  


♟▸

  
  


Jaehyun has never seen Doyoung this exhausted. Their team leader absently waves for them to come in when they tentatively crack open the door, not bothering with a greeting. He presses the heels of his palms against his temples in an attempt to dissipate what must be a pounding headache before he meets their eyes. The dark bags under his own are pronounced in the office lighting.

“I had Jeno take a look at the data we got from that server,” he finally says, voice raspy. “Told him it was a training exercise with some of our old files.”

Jaehyun can’t help himself. “And?”

“Most of it was corrupted past the point of recovery. Not Taeyong’s fault, from what I can tell. More like it was tampered with before we showed up. They couldn't delete it in time, so they scrambled it, maybe?”

“Or they kept something on the servers on purpose,” Taeyong mutters, “because it was a trap.”

“Maybe. Whatever the case, I did get _ something _out of Jeno’s report he pulled together. The leak has been going on for longer than Command thought. Not as much information, not as critical, but it was still there.”

There’s something in Doyoung’s tone that isn’t quite right. For a long moment, Jaehyun can’t pinpoint what that something is, until he sees Doyoung’s fingers tapping against his desk in a very particular nervous tic.

“You haven’t told Command yet, have you?” he asks, incredulous. Beside him, Taeyong’s eyes go wide.

“Well, I’m…” The tapping increases in speed. “I’m waiting. If we can put a stop to the leak, they don't need to find out. God knows they’re already looking for any reason to replace me. How do you think it’ll look if that’s all I can bring them?”

He’ll get no argument from Jaehyun. Command’s rather unsubtle attempts to crush Doyoung beneath their thumb have never sat well with him, and he’d much rather keep the investigation between the three of them. Less chances of variables they can’t predict, for things to go south.

“And did you look into my suggestion?” Taeyong asks.

“About Yuta? I did, but he’s clean. There are leaked case files from after he left, and you’d need to be in the building to get to them. Remote access is always disabled for anything BlackOps.”

“Since when were you investigating Yuta?” It comes out more perturbed than Jaehyun intends, making Taeyong’s expression shutter. Internally, he chastises himself for the overreaction.

“One, Doyoung was investigating, not me. I only made a suggestion. Two, sorry I didn’t realize I needed to ask your permission.”

“That’s not what I━”

“Knock it off,” Doyoung cuts in. “I know that we’re all on edge, but we can’t waste time fighting each other. I think we should start with looking into some sections of Jeno’s report that stood out.”

He quickly flips through the binder-clipped stack of papers on his desk, finger running down the words every few pages until he finds what he’s looking for. “What about this? I can’t tell you what the earliest leaked case was, but I can tell you around what time the spike started. Looks like...sometime in between the Ivanov and the Asano case? The daughter, not the father.”

Ivanov, Ivanov...it rings a bell. “That would have been right before Yuta left,” Jaehyun remembers. “Right around…” He trails off, suddenly very aware of his next words.

Not that it matters. Doyoung has already finished the rest of that sentence in his head, suddenly not looking so tired. He gives them both sharp looks. “I’ll look at this some more and get back to you,” he says tightly. “We’ll talk later.”

Taeyong looks visibly uncomfortable. Whether it’s the sudden dismissal or because Doyoung isn’t telling them everything, Jaehyun can’t say. He does know that there’s an uneasy feeling creeping up his own spine, one that he tries to shake as they take their leave.

This isn’t good.

  
  


◂♟

  
  


“To Yuta!”

The circle of glasses clink together in an uncoordinated series of taps, liquid sloshing over the edge of a few. It’s been drilled too deeply into their training for any of the assembled group to have more than a few drinks, but the current level of pleasant buzz is still enough for some loss of coordination.

“Time for a speech?” Jungwoo asks.

Yuta downs the rest of his glass in place of an answer, rising to his feet to address the bar. He looks happier than he has in months. Jaehyun reminds himself to thank Doyoung again for letting them rent the whole place out for the night.

“Well, gentlemen,” Yuta says with a wide grin. “I’ve made it.” A few scattered cheers follow the words. “It’s been a crazy few years. Some of you I’ve known from even before we joined the big leagues, when we were just starry-eyed boys trying to make it through the Academy. Crazy how time flies.”

His smile grows a little more somber. “But now it’s time for me to move on. I can finally get a job I’m allowed to tell people about, finally propose to the woman who’s been much too patient with me, and finally stop having to see your ugly mugs every waking hour.”

Jaehyun kicks him under the table, yelping when Yuta leans over to aggressively ruffle his hair with a “Nice try, Jae.” Across the table, Taeyong stifles a giggle. It’s the perfect opportunity to pull him into a conversation, but Yuta is straightening up again, not out of words just yet.

“In all seriousness,” he continues, “thank you. It’s because of you guys that I got to kick some serious ass and even have fun doing it. Once I go full civilian, I’m not allowed to contact anyone on the team for safety reasons. But…” He slaps his hands down on the table, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Doyoung’s not here right now, and I think that’s a stupid fucking rule! Who wants my new number?”

Another cheer. Jaehyun shakes his head. It’s probably his obligation to tell Doyoung about this part of the speech, but it just might end up slipping his mind this one time. He mimes zipping his lips shut, to which Yuta looks happy but not unsurprised. With one more pat on top of Jaehyun’s (thoroughly ruined) hair, he moves to talk to the opposite end of the table, and the others break out into their own conversations. Jaehyun’s eyes go back to their newest member, who’s currently in between an inquisitive Jungwoo and Dejun.

“I feel like we still don't know a lot about you,” Dejun is musing. There’s nothing critical in the way he says it, but Jaehyun can still see Taeyong stiffen.

“Sorry, I don’t really...talk about myself.”

“Probably because we’ve never asked,” Jungwoo says, taking another sip of his champagne before he continues. “Do you live in the city?”

“I have a place nearby, but I prefer the Compound.”

“You don’t have anyone special to go back to?”

“Just a dog. I love her, but she only needs me to check in every once in a while.” His eyes go genuinely soft with the mention of his pet, and Jaehyun finds himself wanting to keep that look there.

“A dog would’ve been a much better choice,” Dejun says with a sigh. “Relationships with people only last so long when you have to keep explaining every part of your life away.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jungwoo seconds, and for a moment some of the tension leaves Taeyong’s shoulders. Then, “Oh, Taeyong, I know what I wanted to ask. Where were you stationed before coming here? I asked Doyoung, but he was a little...well, Doyoung.”

“I don’t…” Taeyong’s eyes can’t decide if they want to focus on his full glass, his hands, or a speck of dust on the table. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Who told━?”

“Alright, you two,” Jaehyun intervenes, getting up from his seat. “You’ve hogged him for long enough. I was hoping to talk to him, too.”

“So talk,” Jungwoo challenges him.

“Alone.”

Dejun gives him a look that misconstrues the situation much less than Jaehyun would like, and Jaehyun doesn’t bother correcting him. He leads Taeyong to one of the booths at the back, ignoring the unimpressed looks he’s getting behind his back.

“Thanks for that,” Taeyong says sheepishly. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting all the questions. I panicked.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Not your fault. Sometimes those two don’t know when they’re being too nosy. Still having a good time?”

Taeyong looks across the bar at the others laughing, something unreadable in his eyes. “I’m happy for Yuta,” he says. “And I know you made up an excuse to rescue me, but maybe we _ could _talk? I’m curious about some things.”

Jaehyun leans back in the booth and crosses his arms. “Shoot.”

Narrowed eyes. “Is that a reference to the Ivanov case? I already apologized three different times! I didn’t know it was you when━!”

“Sorry, couldn't resist,” Jaehyun admits with a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. What was your time like at the Academy? How did you meet Doyoung? What was your first case?”

Jaehyun blinks a few times at the sudden barrage. “Taeyong,” he asks, only half-joking, “are you trying to case me while I’m drunk?”

The smile on Taeyong’s face is radiant. “I would never dream of it.”

Jaehyun is definitely not drunk enough to blame the way his stomach flips on the alcohol.

  
  


♟▸

  
  


Taeyong’s lips taste like strawberry banana.

It’s such an unexpected development, borne of some type of off-brand chapstick, that Jaehyun nearly misses the words that come from the other man’s mouth when he leans away.

“This is a terrible idea,” he’s whispering.

He still doesn’t move from where Jaehyun has him pulled against his body. Jaehyun meets him for another kiss, an unconvincing hum of agreement the only response he gives.

For a few more moments, Taeyong indulges him. Then he’s pushing him back, still close but making it clear that he means it. “Jaehyun. I’m serious.”

Only now does Jaehyun notice the cocktail of emotions on Taeyong’s face. Is he shaking? If he hadn’t been so hung up on that damn strawberry banana━

“I think…” Taeyong swallows, not quite making eye contact. “I think you know I feel the same way. But in our line of work, it’s hard to make something like this work.”

Jaehyun’s heart drops. “So you don’t want this.”

“That’s not what I said. I’d just like some time to think. Can you give me that, at least?”

If Taeyong asked him to pull the sun from the sky, he’d probably do it, but he keeps that to himself. “Of course.” Taeyong allows him one more kiss, feather light. “Take your time.”

He means it, even if his heart aches. Even if he has a vague sense of urgency about the whole thing that he can only think to pin on their vocation. He’s waited for this long. He can wait a little longer.

  
  


♟

  
  


Even if Jaehyun had wanted to leave the Compound and give Taeyong more space, he very quickly loses that option. Doyoung puts them all on mandatory lockdown, no agents allowed to step foot outside the building doors. Officially, it’s a practice exercise. Jaehyun knows better. Doyoung has made it clear to the inner circle that the lockdown isn’t going anywhere until the source of the leak is identified and dealt with.

How long will it last, realistically, if that problem isn’t solved? A week? A month? Until they all lose their minds trapped within these walls? It’s not as if the leak is a new revelation at this point, but it feels like things are starting to run toward an inevitable end. The ground feels unsettled under Jaehyun’s feet. He lies awake on top of his covers with eyes open and body restlessly changing positions, trying to chase after a comfort that eludes him further and further as the minutes tick by.

When his door opens with the quietest creak, it’s more of a welcome distraction than a cause for alarm. Then there’s a weight sitting on top of him, making his breath catch in his chest, and where is he supposed to put his hands? They settle on what he thinks are hips, blind until an arm reaches across his body to pull the chain on the bedside lamp.

Taeyong’s sharp softness manifests itself in the dim yellow light. Maybe Jaehyun should be more surprised. But whatever combination of dead-hour detachment and general feeling of being lost at sea sits within him, there's more confusion than anything. “What are you doing?” he whispers.

“I thought about it.”

No speeches, no further explanations. He places both hands on Jaehyun’s chest and leans in closer until he’s hovering a few dangerous inches away. Jaehyun feels his throat tighten and wonders if it’s hesitation. He can feel Taeyong’s eyes on him, piercing.

“Something you wanted to say?”

The words itch at the back of Jaehyun’s skull.

“Nothing,” he says, and there are lips on his own. Not soft and tender like before, but heated and insistent, making his head spin

Jaehyun pulls Taeyong closer, closer, until there’s no distance in between them, no part of him that he hasn’t touched. And he allows whatever hesitation he’d felt to dissolve in a tidal wave of hushed pleas and artificial strawberry banana.

  
  


♟

  
  


When Jaehyun wakes, Taeyong is gone.

He tries not to think too hard on what that could mean as he makes himself presentable for the day. If he starts jumping to worst-case scenarios, he’ll very easily start to spiral. And how could it be bad, with how last night had gone, with how Taeyong had finally let down the last of his walls to bare himself so completely beneath Jaehyun’s hands?

He doesn’t have to go far. Taeyong is standing in the Compound’s kitchen with a small mountain of ingredients stacked up next to him. Working at the stove means his back is to the entrance, but he must pick up on Jaehyun’s footsteps. He doesn’t jump when Jaehyun wraps arms around his waist and places a kiss against his jaw.

“You’re up early,” Jaehyun can’t help but muse. He hopes the question underneath it is obvious. Some of the tension leaves his body when Taeyong leans back into the warmth.

“I’m making pancakes. You said they were your favorite.” There’s something strange lacing his voice, something Jaehyun can’t quite put his finger on, and the tension comes rushing back.

“I wasn’t expecting to wake up alone,” he says carefully. “Almost feels like something went wrong. Like you feel that you made a mistake.”

At that, Taeyong turns around in his hold, kissing him full on the mouth. The chapstick flavor has faded, but there’s still something pleasant underneath. When he opens his eyes, Taeyong is back to making pancakes, and Jaehyun supposes that’s answer enough.

The pancakes are delicious. They almost distract Jaehyun from the veil of...not awkwardness, exactly, but whatever it is that’s manifested between them. He does his part to keep conversation going, giving Taeyong the benefit of the doubt here. Taeyong has always been a little more reserved than himself, a little less comfortable with change.

Even with thinking it over, this is a big change. If more time to adjust is what Taeyong needs, Jaehyun will still gladly give him time. He’d do a lot if it means he can hold him like he’d finally been able to, can speak freely the feelings that he’s tampered down in his chest.

When they’re finished, Taeyong kisses him like he’s reaching for something, like he’s trying to commit the feeling to memory.

“You’re really something, Jaehyun,” he says softly, a vulnerability to it, and Jaehyun cups his cheek with a fond smile on his face. How had he gotten so lucky?

A heartbeat or ten later, Taeyong steps away. “Follow me,” he says. “We have a meeting.”

That pulls Jaehyun up short. “Since when? I don’t remember Doyoung scheduling…?”

“Not Doyoung. Me.” A small smile. “Trust me.”

For better or for worse, Jaehyun always does.

  
  


♟

  
  


Doyoung is already in the conference room, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t.

“I’m surprised,” he says as they take a seat. “Normally the two of you would be the ones chewing me out for having such an early meeting.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Jaehyun warns him.

Doyoung is saved from plucking more sarcasm from his sleep-deprived haze when the others start to file in, various combinations of tired and confused.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Jaehyun murmurs in Taeyong’s direction, but the other man only shakes his head.

“You’ll see.”

It takes years of training for Jaehyun to swallow down his building frustration.

“Well.” Doyoung doesn’t bother standing. He gestures to Taeyong instead, saying, “Why don’t you tell us why you wanted everyone here?”

Jaehyun can hear the deep breath Taeyong takes before he stands, pacing halfway around the table before he addresses the faces staring up at him. And without preamble, he opens his mouth and tells them, “I’m not who you think I am.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Doyoung's fingers cease their distracted tapping.

“I’m from the internal investigations unit. Command sent me here to investigate a leak they worried would grow out of control. That was months before they made anyone else aware of the issue. I came in, got to know each of you, fought alongside you, and you were kinder to me than I probably deserved. But in the end, no matter how much I enjoyed belonging here, I came for one purpose.”

Jaehyun tries to catch anything in his expression, but Taeyong won’t meet his eyes. Why couldn’t they have discussed this earlier between BlackOps members, even between the two of them? Not that Taeyong trusts him enough to tell him much of _ anything _, apparently. How could━?

“The more I got to know the team,” Taeyong continues, “the less I wanted to find the answer. Selfish of me, maybe, but I didn’t want to be the one to point the finger. Still, it’s my job. And now I’m sure.” Another breath. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun. It ends here.”

For a long moment, all Jaehyun can hear is ringing in his ears. A timer runs down to zero that he didn’t know had been ticking away. His body feels like lead, the others looking just as frozen in place.

The rational part of Jaehyun’s mind tells him to make a run for it, but he sees now that Taeyong’s pacing was intentional. He’s positioned himself between Jaehyun and the door. If he━ shit, it’s been too long now. His silence is as incriminating as the accusation.

It’s over. It’s over, and everything has come apart in his hands.

Jungwoo is the first to move. He pushes his chair back and reaches for his gun. In an instant, Jaehyun’s own weapon is drawn. At the other end of the barrel, Doyoung has gone very, very still.

“Jaehyun.” His voice is firm and steady. “Put the gun down, and let’s talk.”

Jaehyun can feel more than see the wall of weapons aimed at his head. He’s not stupid. If he pulls this trigger, he knows he’s a dead man. But if he can buy himself a little bit of leverage, if he can just…

“Let me walk, and no one gets hurt.”

“You of all people know I can’t do that. And I know there’s some part of you that would regret seeing me dead.”

It hits something in Jaehyun’s chest that he’s not fully prepared to deal with yet. “Don’t━”

“You’re not walking out of this room, either way,” Doyoung cuts him off. “It might as well be with less blood on your hands.”

Jaehyun’s hands shake despite himself. His grip on the gun falters, and Doyoung’s expression shifts. He knows he’s won.

“Don’t turn me in to Command yet.” It’s more of a plea than a demand. “Hear me out first. Please.”

“Fine.”

“_Please_,” Jaehyun insists, because Doyoung has no reason to be truthful with him now. “I need to know you’re not just saying that.”

“You have my word.”

It’s the best offer he’s going to get. Jaehyun never really had a choice beyond whatever Doyoung offered to give him. He places his gun back on the table and allows the guillotine to fall. He says nothing as people he once called his friends yank his arms behind his back, restraining him. He looks at Taeyong for one fleeting second and immediately wishes he hadn’t looked at all.

“Put him in Holding,” Doyoung tells them, voice hollow. “Have Dejun stand outside.”

Jaehyun stumbles when they lead him out of the room. He keeps his head bowed low to avoid meeting their eyes, seeing their faces. Before the door shuts behind them, he can hear one last word, heavy-hearted but absolute in its finality.

“Dismissed.”

◂♟

Jaehyun is _ trying _. He tells this to his superiors, but they’re adamant in their dismissal of the progress he’s made so far. Why isn’t he in BlackOps yet? What is he doing to get into Doyoung’s good graces? If he doesn’t start sending better information soon, the consequences won’t be to his liking. After all, they have━

Taeyong had gone through the case file what seems like a hundred times before he burned it, leaving no shred of evidence behind. He has to become one of them now. Talk like them, move like them, think like them. Command normally isn’t prone to these kind of measures, but Doyoung is a danger to the entire department. Removing him starts with removing the leak. A firm “come in” sounds from the other side of the door to signal the start of his new life, and he turns the handle━

Jaehyun finally feels like his luck is turning around. He takes one look at Taeyong’s wide-eyed expression and knows he’s found what he’s been looking for: finally, someone who can be closest to him. It makes for another source, another ear, of course, but it’s more than that. It can get so lonely━

Taeyong knows he doesn’t have his priorities straight. He’s happy about the promotion, yes, but he’s more drawn to how excited Jaehyun looks telling him. Not for the first time, he’s glad that he’d picked Jaehyun out of all of them to get close to. He’s trusting, talented at reading Doyoung’s moods, good for the mission. But he’s also...he’s nice to be around. Truly, it can get lonely━

Jaehyun knows he was an idiot. Even if that last mission had tested his patience, he knows that Taeyong isn’t the real reason he’s on edge. His superiors are cracking down as of late. They need more information faster than he can get it, and they’ve made their displeasure known. Shit. If it weren’t for this double life━

Taeyong allows himself a moment of weakness here in Jaehyun’s arms. It’s so warm and inviting here that he never wants to leave. The loneliness he’d admitted aloud had been the most honest words he’s spoken in years. Lying to everyone has never made him feel this low about himself. If it weren’t for this damn leak━

Jaehyun frowns to himself as he watches Taeyong type away at the laptop. He’s getting the data he needed, his USB drive already copying it over to his own personal backups, but pinning the extra files on Doyoung? A sloppy cover-up. Not that he has much of a choice, with how far they’re pushing him. And Taeyong trusts him. He’ll never━

Taeyong feels his stomach drop as Doyoung tells him about the leak. Hopefully his reaction can be written off as surprise. He is, after all, learning about this for the first time. In theory. If Command thinks he’s doing a bad enough job at the investigation to alert Doyoung...he still doesn’t quite follow their game. Not that his opinion would mean anything to them. At least Jaehyun listens when he talks. He’d never━

Jaehyun is so close, so close...there. He seals both rooms, locking both of his teammates inside. His superiors had been furious about Doyoung’s discovery of the server location, but they’d given him clear instructions: get them close enough to think they’re getting somewhere, prevent them from actually getting to the data before Jaehyun is forced to destroy it. A false dead end. Except Taeyong isn’t where he’s supposed to be, and he just hopes there’s a contingency plan in place for some data slipping into other hands. Then minutes later, a string of generators is exploding, and Jaehyun is shaking, because this wasn’t the plan at all. They’d promised. They’d━

Taeyong is almost certain he’s right. It breaks his heart to say so, but he knows never to ignore his instincts. And it’s not just instincts; it’s evidence. There’s just two final pieces he needs now: one for Command, one for himself. Maybe it will be a weight off his chest. More likely, it will be a goodbye. A little cruel, but he’s already made his choice. He gives Jaehyun one last chance to prove him wrong.

This time, when he gets his answer, Taeyong sees it: the lie. He plants that first damning kiss and swallows his despair.

♟▸

Taeyong stares blankly at the door to the holding cells. Some part of him had thought he was ready for this, was prepared to deal with the aftermath. He was wrong. His insides feel empty and hollow, and his skin feels stretched too tight over his bones. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be a stranger in these people’s home.

Doyoung pauses before getting to the final fingerprint scanner. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone for the last 24 hours, least of all the man he knows was sent to bring his career toppling down. Taeyong can’t blame him. That doesn’t ease the sting.

“Tell me this,” Doyoung demands in the silence. “Am I done for? Now that you’ve finished your mission?”

“I don’t know what their plan is. All they told me to do was start with finding the mole.”

“But you have an idea. You know _ them _.”

Taeyong swallows down an uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I know they want you gone,” he admits. “I don’t know how or how soon. Probably blaming the leak on your lack of oversight, but I don’t...I think Command has misjudged you.”

The steel in Doyoung’s eyes doesn’t exactly fade, but he looks less confrontational than he did before. That’s something. “There's a lot about you I hate on principle,” Doyoung tells him point-blank, “but that’s mostly the circumstances. I still respect you for doing the right thing when it must have hurt. And you were ━are━ a good agent.”

“Doesn’t always feel that way,” Taeyong mutters, more to himself than anything.

Doyoung breaks eye contact for a long moment, lips pressing together in a narrow line. They’re both still dancing around the real reason they’re here. It feels so foreign to put the situation into words: Jaehyun is a spy. Jaehyun betrayed them all. Jaehyun, for all Taeyong knows, was a better liar than he thought, and has been stringing Taeyong’s heart along this whole━

“You were with him, weren’t you?” It’s not really a question.

“I was.”

“And not just for reconnaissance.”

“...No.”

He’s a fool who’d wanted to prolong the fantasy a little longer. It had let him close the case, sure, but there were other ways to have done it. His heart is still on the fence if he made the right choice.

“Be careful,” Doyoung says sincerely. “Don’t let him get in your head.”

_ Too late _, Taeyong thinks with a bitterness he didn’t think he possessed. To the other man, he gives a silent incline of his head.

Doyoung inserts his thumb into the scanner, and they step inside.

♟

Jaehyun almost wishes he couldn’t feel a thing. Curled up in a corner of the holding cell, he feels years of suppressed emotions curl into a noose around his throat: shame at the people he’d grown to respect finding out this way, revulsion at the person he’d become underneath the act, heartbreak at that expression on Taeyong’s face.

He’d had to lie and manipulate so frequently that Jaehyun had grown detached from the acts, able to save those ugly feelings for contained bursts of self-hatred. Now, forced to confront the sum of his parts, he feels smothered beneath their weight. Doyoung had become like a brother to him. Jungwoo, Jeno, and the others had readily accepted him into their fold with open arms. Taeyong...god, _ Taeyong _.

Jaehyun sees some of it now. He can pick out little moments he’d glossed over where the other man had shown his hand, however subtle. He can put a name to what was in Taeyong’s eyes the night he’d given Jaehyun everything but the truth. What he’d wanted was a confession. Was it an act of mercy? Would it have simply made his job easier? What was real, what was real, what was _ real _?

The door to the room slides open. Jaehyun is on his feet as soon as he can, hardwired not to show weakness even when he’s lost this game in every possible way.

Something else inside Jaehyun cracks when he sees the others walk into the room. They make a pretty pathetic picture: the three BlackOps members, one locked in a cage, one dead on his feet, and the third shrinking away from both of them like he doesn’t belong here in the first place.

The silence that stretches on is both uncomfortable and ominous. No one seems to know how to start. That, or the two agents still in good standing have decided they’re beyond talking. Jaehyun prays he knows them well enough to hope for the former.

“How did you know?” he asks. It doesn’t really matter. It’s probably the least important thing for him to find out. But he needs to know the final straw that put defeat in his voice and weights on his shoulders.

Taeyong’s gaze hurts just as much as it did yesterday, even when he doesn’t immediately look away. The way he’s forcing himself to hold Jaehyun’s stare is arguably worse.

“I looked into Doyoung’s request for extra data on Li Wei but found out he never authorized the pull,” Taeyong explains, strained. “That’s how it started. Then I spent time with my own copy of the data we downloaded from the servers. It was corrupted, but some of your commands were in the recoverable logs. I know you were the one to seal us in. I made a guess at how you were running the leaks, and during...that night, I took your USB drive to confirm my hunch.” He finally looks away. “I was right. Everything fell into place.”

“Clever.” Jaehyun feels equal parts proud and sick to his stomach. There’s an implication there that he doesn’t want to touch.

“Wait,” Doyoung speaks up. “If this has been going on since the beginning, you had access to Yuta’s reassignment files. Don’t tell me you━”

“I didn’t,” Jaehyun insists. At least he’s done this one redeeming thing. “He’s still safe. When my superiors started to ask about it, I lied that you’d wiped the on-site copies.”

“It does seem like you’re good at that,” Doyoung remarks, and Jaehyun’s fingernails bite painfully into his palms.

The silence returns for another long moment, heavy and obtrusive, and then Taeyong is asking, “Was any of it real? Or was I just an easy way to get more information?”

“Taeyong━” Doyoung starts, a warning, but Jaehyun is already opening his mouth.

“I did sometimes use your training to get information I needed, like with Li,” he admits, “but I never played with your feelings. Not after I got in too deep. I swear.”

Taeyong is already shaking his head before the denial is finished. Jaehyun sees the telltale tremble of his bottom lip start up as he turns away from both of them. Jaehyun wants to say how rich that reaction is coming from Taeyong, considering using each other hadn’t been a one-way street, but he holds his tongue.

Doyoung has started to look uncomfortable with being in the room. Even if having an audience is humiliating, Jaehyun is still glad the team leader is present. He doesn’t think he could stand Taeyong being the only one in here.

“Your turn to answer some questions,” Doyoung says sharply, when it’s clear Taeyong isn’t continuing. “How were you authorized to join the team?”

“The process was done over my head. I only heard about my acceptance once it was finalized.”

“How did you communicate with them?”

“There’s an executable on my USB drive that opens a channel for me to report in once a month. It’s similar to the program that sends the files. Neither can be traced.”

“Did they ever give you orders to kill an agent, either me or one of the others?”

“What?” Jaehyun feels thrown by the unexpected question, composure slipping out of place. “No, only for information.”

“And if you would have received orders to kill one of us, would you have gone through with it?”

“I….” His throat constricts. “I don’t know how to answer that question.” Thank every deity he’d never had to consider that as anything more than a hypothetical.

“Fine. Then answer this one: why?”

And isn’t that the crux of it? The one thing that’s tied Jaehyun’s hands and forced him into a role he’d wanted to tear from its foundations? The leverage that’s left him no option but to sit down and shut up when every cell in his body screams for rebellion?

“They have my sister.” His voice breaks mid-confession. “When I first took the job, it was because I thought I was doing the right thing, even after years of a training program no person should have to go through. You showed me what being an agent was supposed to be. I tried to leave, but they kidnapped my sister and threatened me with her life if I didn’t stay.”

A breath. “As soon as I was promoted to BlackOps, I started passing on information. We worked more cases once Taeyong joined us, so I could send more. I didn’t think about...it never occurred to me that it would make him look guilty.”

He remembers the way Doyoung’s expression had darkened. Any false lead that drew suspicion away from Jaehyun was supposed to be a good thing, but it was hard to feel victorious when he imagined how bad the end of that road could look. Jaehyun’s intention was never to pin the blame, only to muddy the waters and prolong the investigation until his superiors had no choice but to withdraw him. His intention, not theirs.

“Please,” Jaehyun implores the team leader, hands curling around the bars of the cell. “Don’t let Command know about me. They won’t kill me. They’ll try to trade me back for leverage, my superiors will know I’ve failed, and my sister will be killed. I can’t lose her.”

Doyoung’s expression is stone. Taeyong turns back around, more composed now, and demands, “How can we trust a word you say when we have no idea who you are? I doubt we even know your real name.”

“You do. I’m Jung Jaehyun. My old name doesn’t exist anymore, just like any other traces of who I was before. This is who I am.”

“A liar, a thief, and a coward.”

“You think I’ve enjoyed doing this?” Jaehyun snaps at him, temper stretched thin. “Lying to everyone around you when you’ve grown to care for them is awful. You of all people should understand that.”

“Well,” Doyoung says pointedly, giving them both a look of warning, “it looks like we’re at an impasse. Not preventing a civilian death would go against our code, but you could be making her up. We can’t explain you being held here forever, but we can’t just let you go when you’ve been sabotaging us for so long. And no matter what, Command will have my head unless I bring them a name for the leak. Or at least my job.”

_ A job you’ve grown to hate _, Jaehyun thinks but doesn’t say. The glare Doyoung turns on him lets him know the message still got across. If Jaehyun doesn’t do something right now, it’s over. He’s still lost no matter what, but there’s one last thing that could work in his favor, if he plays his pieces right.

“I know someone,” he says. “A mole who works directly under Command. Giving them that name would draw their focus away from you for a while. And it would make much more of an impact. I have evidence on...that is, Taeyong has the evidence now.”

“You wouldn’t give that up for free. What would you want in exchange? Your freedom?”

“Time to go and rescue my sister before it’s too late. Once she’s safe, you can do whatever you see fit with me.” Even he doesn’t know if that’s a lie. “I’ll give you the name, but only if you give me your word.”

“You’ve lost that privilege,” Doyoung tells him coldly, and it _ stings _. “You tell me the name, and then you’ll see what you get in return.”

They’re both aware Jaehyun doesn’t have another choice. Jaehyun knows Doyoung to be a man of his word, but his word hasn’t been given. Jaehyun knows Doyoung to be fair and reasonable, but he’s never been Doyoung’s enemy. He has no idea how his final move will pan out. There’s still only one way this conversation ends.

“Kang Junyoung,” he says, ending his turn.

Doyoung takes Taeyong by the elbow and leaves.

♟

This time, they make Jaehyun wait two days. He stews in an ugly concoction of guilt and fear and can’t stop wondering if he’s made the right play.

When Doyoung finally does return, it’s a welcome change to pull him out of his own head, even despite the dread pooling in his stomach. Only, Doyoung’s expression isn’t the unreadable mask Jaehyun had expected. He looks visibly angry and shaken. Taeyong is nowhere in sight.

A swallowed noise of frustration, a shake of his head, and Doyoung is at least a few steps closer to being centered. “Taeyong passed on the name you provided to Command,” he says bluntly. “Pinned the entire leak fiasco on him and even distanced me from the whole thing.”

“And?” Jaehyun can school his expression but not his heartbeat.

“And they did nothing. He got a message back that he’d identified the wrong person, and that there would be consequences. The only way they could know it was the wrong answer…”

“...is if they know the right one,” Jaehyun finishes for him. His head is starting to spin, trying to grasp the full implications of that response.

“They’ll be coming after me soon, I’m sure,” Doyoung continues with a scowl. “Now that they’ll piece together I’ve caught on. I had Jeno do some digging into Command’s records, and do you know who came up as the top candidate to take my place? Kang Junyoung.”

Forget individual moves. The whole board has just been turned on its head. Jaehyun hadn’t even been able to see the real game being played. Command’s treatment toward Doyoung had been more malicious than he’d thought. They’d purposefully weakened his credibility and entire operation to give themselves plausible reason to replace him with a puppet under their control. How many, he wonders? A single traitor? All of them?

“They’ve...known about me this entire time, then. Whenever I reported in, that was going straight to Command. They probably didn’t even need half of the information I sent, but it still made you look bad. I can’t…”

_ I can’t believe I spent years believing I was living one lie when I was really living another as someone’s unwitting pawn. _

“There’s more,” Doyoung says slowly, and his hesitation makes Jaehyun’s stomach drop. Doyoung doesn’t hesitate. He can’t afford to. The last time he’d looked this reluctant to tell him something, it had been to reveal the leak: the beginning of one of the series of events that had put Jaehyun behind these bars.

“Jeno also found something else we weren’t supposed to see. I looked into it more myself after he showed me the message. Jaehyun, your sister...it’s only been empty threats they’ve used against you. She’s already dead.”

Already dead. Jaehyun sinks to his knees, head coming forward to rest uncomfortably against the bars. He’s lost control of his body, unable to stand. “How long?” he asks, voice hollow.

“She passed away a few months after being taken into custody from health complications. I’m sorry.”

She’d warned him. She’d begged Jaehyun not to sign up for the program in the first place. After losing their parents, he’d been the one person in her life to look out for her. She hadn’t wanted him to leave. But he’d wanted to put food on the table without worrying if he could find work each day, and he’d been blinded by the bright light of ideals that he hadn’t yet realized had turned fanatical.

Jaehyun had paid in scars and loneliness. She’d paid with her life.

Doyoung presses on. “If you disobeyed them before you were caught, they would have killed you and brought in someone else. If you were caught, they were going to kill you then, too. And now you’re caught.” He gives Jaehyun a pointed look. “Understand?”

A nod. Jaehyun has always prided himself on compartmentalizing his emotions to pick apart in solitude, but how is he supposed to handle all of this at once? It’s too much, _ far _too much.

Suddenly, the room door slides back open. Doyoung hardly sends the sound a glance, unsurprised, but Jaehyun feels his next breath catch in his throat. It’s impossible to look away as the person he least and most wants to see steps inside.

“You’re finished?” Doyoung asks.

“I left notes for all the others with instructions to burn them after,” Taeyong says solemnly. “And I packed the bags. All three of them.”

“Three?”

Jaehyun immediately wishes he’d kept the question to himself, but what’s done is done. The other two share a glance before Doyoung tells him, “We’re leaving tonight. Whoever the mole ━or moles━ are in Command, they know that the three of us know the truth. We’ll be targets if we stay.” The look he sends Jaehyun this time is the sharpest one yet. “Are you with us? To weed out the corruption from the outside?”

Jaehyun? He’s long since given up believing in wrong and right, in the good guys and the bad guys. All he knows is that there were three people in the world who knew his truth, and now there are two. If pledging himself to their cause is the price to pay for their company and what remains of their trust...

“I’m with you.”

“Good.” The tug of his lips is too somber to be called a smile. “Taeyong, get the door.”

One reluctant push of a button alters the course of Jaehyun’s fate. When he steps out, Taeyong is blocking his path, finally meeting his gaze without hesitation. Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak until he sees Taeyong shaking his head.

“I don’t care that you lied about what you do and who sent you,” he says. “So did I. Prove to me you didn’t lie about who you _ are _.”

“I will. I swear.” An oath Jaehyun intends to keep.

He feels the cool press of a hand against his face, considering, before it falls back to Taeyong’s side. The touch is still enough to plant a seed of hope inside Jaehyun’s chest, to imagine a way this all ends besides up in flames.

“Let’s go,” Doyoung tells them. “If everything goes well, we’ll be back.”

It’s a new game now, one with new rules and pieces still hidden from their view. They have no manual and no clear strategy to lead them to what might turn out to be a victory. Still, Jaehyun doesn’t mind their odds.

He’s always been a fast learner.


End file.
